The Boys Of Summer
by potterheadjazz
Summary: FrostIron. Highschool AU. "Loki's perfect for him in the most imperfect of ways; both are too fucked up to fool around with anyone else and so they have each other and secretly, that's all they want. " WARNINGS: Smut, Underage Tony, Top!Loki, vague suggestions of sexual abuse/assault
1. One

There's a spark in the night that seems to light a fire in everyone's soul.

It's the start of summer, and teenagers everywhere are more than ready. Nothing can stop them now. All they want to do is find a party with the right mix of music and alcohol and drugs to create the ultimate high. Every boy's on the hunt for the perfect lay and every girl's out for that first kiss that'll make her appropriate gossip for the ladies room when school starts back up again in the fall.

Except for the seldom few. The outcasts. The leather-jacket wearing cigarette smokers. The losers who everyone quietly envies. The party crashers. The outwardly strong and the mentally weak. The dirty crooks who are feared as much as their admired. They're the bastards to let you know exactly how full of shit they are. Every girl wants them, and every boy wants to be brave enough to indulge their rebellious side and take a card out of their book.

In strolls the group's commanding officer – the takes-no-shit man, the tough bastard, the _one. _Loki Laufeyson's his name and he's six feet two inches of pure sass and there's not a soul on the planet that he can't take. To his right is Thor, his brother by law but not by blood, and he's already looking around for the lucky girl he's going to make his tonight. That's the thing with these guys; they always get what they want. Next to Thor is none other than the brains of the outfit. The ultimate scum that always gets the girl, Banner is always on fire for one band or another. He always tries to see what beauts he can lift from the loser host's bedroom and tonight will be no exception.

And then there's Tony. Shy little Tony. Pretty little tanned-skin, hazel-eyes, no confidence to his name, Tony. He doesn't know what he wants – never has, probably never will. Lucky for him, he doesn't get much of a choice in what's going to happen to him tonight. You won't hear a peep out of him though. That's exactly how he likes it.

They party's already in full swing by the time they arrive. Some song is blaring loud but there's not a single lyric is being absorbed. A song like this is all about the beat and the rhythm and whether it makes you want to fuck or dance or fight and with a bit of luck it'll make you want to do all three. Loki takes his place by the counter, eyeing everyone in the room. The world and his wife have turned up and he can tell that not even half of them even know the host. He doesn't care – it's just another venue. Just another place to stay. His folks – _Thor's _folks – kicked him out when he was barely sixteen after a big argument with Daddy about naughty little Loki kissing other boys. He's been drifting ever since. The only thing he lives for now are parties like this one and occasional school appearances and the alcohol his friends so graciously donate to him. The rest is a blur of random bedrooms and alleyways and the lumpy old couch he calls a bed. His eyes sweep the crowd, looking for what he wants. There's only one prize tonight and he'll be damned if he's not going to win it. Tony. Pretty boy. _That _guy.

"Hey, Ton," he calls out strongly, his relaxed one-elbow-out pose a mere detail. The real stories behind those eyes – behind those striking icy blue eyes – but nobody ever sees them, they're constantly hidden behind those damn Wayfarers he lifted room some kids house last winter.

"Yeah, Lo?" Tony's reluctant to let his eyes land on those dark glasses. He's a wreck every time Loki's in his space – the two of them have too much history for even the best of apologies to fix. They've fought each other until death was named the prize and they've shared too many cigs to even try to count. But those kisses. Those god damned _motherfucking _kisses, the heavy lip-smacking, too-much-tongue make out sessions and those fleeting butterfly pecks. The pretend 'I love you's. Those are what keeps Tony around and quiet. Those are what keeps him alive.

"C'mere." He beckons the smaller boy over with a nodded of his head. The bump and crash of every other person in the room means nothing to Loki as his only possession takes his place at his hip. That's where Tony should always be. "What's the matter?" his voice is detached, he's asking purely as a formality. The cig he pulls from behind his ear is crumpled and bent but he'll be fucked if he's not getting his fix. He looks to Tony for the rest, and without missing a beat the smaller boy's lighter is out, giving purpose to Loki's cancer stick. Tony inhales deeply. It's his favourite smell, and fuck the word 'hazard.'

"Nothing 'm fine," the younger boy says.

"Good. You up for something tonight?" Loki asks, as if Tony has a choice. Loki's never forced him, no. But then again, he's never had to. Willing, eager little Tony's always up for the job, always up for being Loki's plaything on those nights when it's too cold and nothing's worth the fight and all there's to do with the night is fuck until you can't feel anything any more or until you pass out or both. Tony's good for that. He likes being roughed up a bit. That's the best part of being a chew toy. You get touched. You get _noticed. _

"Sure. Just say when," the smaller boy shrugs, like it's no big deal. His small hands are digging in those oh-so-tight pockets and he comes out with a strawberry chap stick. His hand comes up to his lips absent-mindedly. It's supposed to be seductive but at this point Loki just wants to get it all over with. Sure he watches for a minute but it isn't long before he's grabbing Tony's hand and the lip balm has been put away.

They make their way upstairs and everyone is smart enough to pretend like they don't know what the pair get up to. Bodacious little cheerleaders and their hunky footballers step smartly out of the way like nothing is going on at all.

"Where to?" Loki asks, holding Tony's twitchy little hand still. Tony glances up and down the landing.

"Bathroom's boring," he decides. "How about here?" he jabs his thumb towards the direction of a bedroom and Loki simply nods, allowing the littler boy to lead the way.

When they're in there, Loki lays on the bed and watches Tony expectantly. After a minute, he sighs.

"Well?" he says, irritated that Tony hasn't caught on yet.

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, yeah." The younger boy grins from ear to ear like a cat that got the cream and wrestles himself out of that tight little biker jacket and wrenches his feet out of the converse sneakers. The jeans take a little more work but eventually he's down to just his boxer shorts and crumpled t-shirt. Loki grins and flashes him an encouraging wink as Tony steps out of his remaining garments. When he's down to his bare skin, he climbs onto the bed and soon has Loki naked too.

Loki wastes no time in grabbing Tony by his hips and pulling him close for a rough kiss. Tony's more than up for whatever it is Loki wants to do, so long as he calls Tony his for that short time and makes him feel that kind of special that Daddy never could.

"Y-You gonna show me a good time?" Tony whispers, and fuck, that tween drawl should put Loki off but if anything its more endearing, makes him want to crush his lips against Tony's – so that's what he does. And with a response like that, Tony doesn't need an answer. Loki fumbles, somehow removing his glasses without breaking the kiss and tossing his forgotten cigarette stub into an ashtray on the side.

The only light comes from a dim crystal lamp but that's all they need to see; Loki knows Tony's body like the back of his own hand. The kid's his muse and canvas. Tony's special, beautiful, and he doesn't even know it.

"C'mon, Ton," Loki whines. "You're so motherfucking pretty tonight. You gonna let me have you?"

His arms are wrapped maybe a bit too tightly around the younger's frame, but neither of them care. Tony nods his head once and that's all the damn consent that Loki needs. So fuck if the kid is only seventeen. Give it a few months, he'll be as legal as they come. Loki bears that in mind as he trails kisses lower than Tony's face, kissing down his neck, nipping with his teeth just to hear the kid moan for him. Tony's shivering as if it's sub-zero inside but his skin heats up more and more with every touch Loki delivers. All this foreplay BS is purely to keep the smaller boy happy; Loki could go without every single time and be no less satisfied for it. But he knows how much Tony loves it and he's got to keep his play toy sweet.

"Mmng. C'mon Lo," Tony begs, and Loki's only too happy to oblige, pulling Tony's thighs gently from each side to separate his legs, kissing down to that trail of hair that starts at his bellybutton and eventually combines with the dark thatch around his manhood. He never breaks eye contact, not for a second, and so he isn't surprised when Tony's erection bumps his chin. He giggles there.

"I love how hot you get for me," he comments, coming up to meet Tony's lips again. His hand goes over the edge of the mattress and he feels in his jacket pocket for the tiny bottle of lube that he knows is there. He places it teasingly on the bedside table, right in Tony's eyeline if he bothers to turn his head. But he doesn't – he keeps staring up at Loki with those pretty little eyes, the pupils so damn dilated that they're almost black.

"Fuck. You've been practising?" Loki asks, and Tony immediately knows what he means, what with the way he's squirming and panting for Loki's pleasure.

"Trust me, Lo. You're the only practise I need," he smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Loki's too far gone too notice though, and Tony's not entirely sure that he'd care even if he did.

"Is that so?" Loki guides Tony's hand down to his erection – he's hard as a rock and not about to go back now, not until he gets what he wants. Tony gasps at the contact, shutting his eyes and nodding, but that's not enough for Loki. He rocks his hips so they brush together and Tony moans.

"_Yes!" _it comes out as something between a groan and a scream and that's what pushes Loki over the edge. His playful smirk is wiped away in favour of a positively evil one.

"Right. Well, let's get down to it then," he says, and he slicks up two fingers.

Seconds later, he's knuckles-deep inside Tony, waiting. Waiting for the right types of moans and whimpers; the ones from pleasure, not pain. That's when he knows. When he knows Tony's ready for him. He doesn't want to hurt the kid, he never wants to hurt him – not in a bad way, at any rate. The good moans come all too slowly, but Loki wastes no time when they do. He presses his tip to Tony's entrance and bites his lip.

"Ready, babe?" he whispers, and Tony only nods. He pushes in slowly, until he's stuffed to the hilt. Tony grapples at him, using the long black hair to pull the older boy down for a kiss. Slowly, Loki's hips start to rock, pumping in and out as he tries to ignore Tony's sobs. They're just a part of the deal, they'll go away soon enough. Till then, he'll swallow as many as he can into the kiss and try his damn best to make the kid feel good.

He knows he's achieved something when Tony breaks the kiss with a gasp, gripping the sheets with sweaty palms, his toes curling.

"Fuck, Lo! That spot! Again! Fucking _faster_!" he pants, like he knows Loki wants him too, and the older boy is only too happy to oblige. He picks up the pace and gets that bit rougher like he knows his boy likes. He loves hearing that he's giving Tony what he wants. He knows it's all pretend, knows that they'd both get off either way, but it's nice for Tony to give permission for Loki to treat him like a punching bag; sure, he's still getting hurt, but at least now he wants it. And Tony? He just loves to be touched. He considers this kind of contact a favour. So fuck if he's being taken advantage of. Loki's perfect for him in the most imperfect of ways; both are too fucked up to fool around with anyone else and so they have each other and secretly, that's all they want.

Eventually, it all becomes too much for Tony and he spills all over both of their chests and stomachs. His scream can probably be heard downstairs, but neither one fucking cares. Loki follows soon after, releasing inside Tony's spent body much more quietly, digging his nails into the kid's shoulders so hard it's a wonder he doesn't take all the skin off.

"Fucking hell, you're great," Loki leans in to kiss Tony's cheek shyly as he pulls out of the body. "Such great taste, I've got. I've picked a good one."

The mood is lost, but that's okay. They've both gotten what they wanted and now they're going to carry on with their lives as if none of this happened, as if none of it _had _to happen. They've never been much into cuddling and all that sentimental shit, and so Loki simply sits up and starts to get dressed, and is shocked when Tony doesn't do the same.

"Hey, chin up," he says, tucking his fingers under Tony's chin in a pseudo-affectionate way. "Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong," Tony replies, his eyes desperate to cling to that pale-blue gaze. But he knows he has too look away, else those eyes will be in his mind all night, even follow him into his dreams.

"Good. So smile, okay? Smile, you're too pretty not to," Loki comments and for the first time that night, Tony's lips are pulled upwards into an actual smile. Loki thinking he's pretty is enough to make him smile for the rest of the night, and Loki's smiling right along with him. What he needs right now is a cigarette and some fresh air. Tony knows the drill, and gets dressed as quickly and quietly as he can. Hey, maybe if he isn't so clingy, Loki will share his cig with him, just like old times.

Loki heads to the door, holds it open to let his toy go first. Everyone they pass politely ignores them, pretending it wasn't over an hour ago that they last went up the stairs, pretending they don't know what happened, pretending the pair don't both have major sex-hair right now. They step out onto the decking and the fresh air is the rush they both need.

"Tony!" Banner's voice comes, and the tall boy is in front of the pair in seconds. "There you are! I've been looking for you for ages, Thor and I want to blow this joint he knows about this- hey, what're you smiling like a pair of loons for, huh?"

"Oh, no reason," Tony replies, with a sly glance at Loki, because how can the real explanation make sense to anyone when it doesn't even make sense to them?

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know what that was so please don't ask. I've never really seen this sort of thing done with Tony's character before. Most FrostIrons have Tony being the sassy top and Loki as the shy bottom so I thought why not do a bit of reversal? It's purely experimental so don't kill me if you hate it . This is supposed to be a one-shot but I may write more depending how much you guys like this and how many reviews it gets. So please, if you want more, don't forget to review!


	2. Two

Loki doesn't stay long after they leave.

The others go to this other party, 'cause Banner's heard one of his coke connections is going to be there and they're all dying for their next fix. In all honesty, so is Loki, but he can't afford it right now and doesn't want another loan. Still, he walks there with them, hanging to the back of the group, Tony trotting loyally along beside him. That makes the taller boy smirk, and he offers his precious cig to Tony, the closest thing to a caring gesture the two of them ever really get. Tony accepts gratefully, taking a long drag and blowing out rings of smoke to make Loki smile.

"I suppose I'd better go," Loki sighs, when the cigarette is down to a stub, and he grinds it under the heel of his Doc Martens.

"You don't have to," Tony says, bravely. "I'm not going to take anything either. We could hang together."

"Nah," Loki shrugs dismissively. "Thanks for the offer, kiddo, but no. I'm shattered anyway. I'll just call it a night."

"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?" Tony looks worried and Loki laughs, though behind the dark glasses, tears spring to his eyes 'cause he's so damn touched that the kid cares so much about him.

"Yeah, 'course I do," he shrugs. "I've got Steve's place, remember? You shouldn't worry about me. It's not healthy."

"Not healthy," Tony repeats with a chuckle. "You're a walking heart attack waiting to happen, Lo. Of course I'm gonna worry about you."

"I'll assume that was a compliment," Loki chuckles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Tony's forehead. And then he leaves – there's no goodbye, they never say goodbye – simply a waggle of fingers and a silently cool stroll away. Tony watches his retreating back until he's out of sight, before he dashes to catch up with the others.

* * *

Loki takes the long way back, though he's not entirely sure why. He doesn't cry, despite how much he wants too, 'cause if he gets back with wet cheeks and red eyes, Steve will want to know what's up and how can he tell Steve when he doesn't even know himself? So he puts that false I-don't-even-care smirk on and adopts that too-good-for-you swagger and walks down the path to Steve's front door. It's locked and he doesn't have a key but he knows where Steve hides the spare one so that's not a problem.

"Honey, I'm home," it's an ongoing joke they have, Loki shouts it every time he walks through the door. But it's not home, not really. Not for Loki, anyway. Steve's just an old friend – an old friend of Thor's, if you're going into specifics – who took pity on Loki when he got kicked out. So for that past almost-two-years, Loki's been crashing on Steve's couch. They get on okay; Steve's sweet and polite, as if he's stuck in the 1940s, and he's one of few people alive who's willing to put up with Loki's bullshit. He provides somewhere to sleep and food for the rare occasions Loki decides to eat and he lets Loki smoke inside the house, and Loki appreciates that, truly, even if he doesn't really say as often as he should. Or ever.

"Hi," Steve's still up, and that surprises Loki because it's gone eleven thirty and Steve's really into early nights. "This is early for you."

"Yeah. The others left for some drug party, I wasn't in the mood," Loki shrugs, sitting beside Steve on the sofa which is his bed. "This is _late _for _you._"

"There was some documentary on that I wanted to watch," Steve indicates the TV, flickering in the otherwise dark room.

"Documentaries at this hour?" Loki smirks, knowing that's not the truth. Steve blushes, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, uh… well maybe Phil came over for a while too," he says, awkwardly, and Loki grins. Phil Coulson is Steve's long-term boyfriend. Loki knows they fuck like rabbits every time Phil is over but Steve's so damn conservative in front of people that even the word 'sex' practically makes him pass out. Loki doesn't like Phil much; he's often heard him complain as to how Loki doesn't pay rent and treats Steve's front room like a 'doss house' and he always panics in those situations because one day, instead of defending him, Steve might turn around and agree with Phil and then Loki's fucked because he hasn't a clue where else he could go.

"How's Tony?" Steve asks, raising one eyebrow. Steve's the only person who even tries to understand what happens between Loki and Tony, and Loki's grateful for that, grateful that he doesn't get judged.

"Tony's good," Loki shrugs in an off-hand way, like he doesn't really care. "He went to that party with Thor and Bruce."

"Didn't you want to go with him?" Steve asks, head on one side. Loki shrugs.

"Nah," is all he offers in the way of an answer.

"Hey. You alright?" Steve cocks his head on one side.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Loki forces out a shaky laugh and Steve shrugs.

"No reason. Except I've never known you turn down a 'drug party' before. Plus its almost midnight, you're indoors, and yet you're still wearing sunglasses, which probably means you're trying not to cry, or you've already been crying and you don't want me to know. _Plus _this is the first time in months you've come in and not been drunk," Steve reels off his reasons, counting them off on his fingers. Not for the first time, Loki mentally curses Steve for his almost military observational skills.

"I'm just tired," Loki says, vaguely. He's always been good at lying, but he's had too many drunken crying sessions to Steve for the blond to even consider believing him anymore.

"Is it Thanos?" Steve asks quietly, and that makes Loki mad.

"No. It isn't fucking Thanos. Why is it that every time I'm upset everyone assumes it's Thanos? I'm done with Thanos. That ship has sailed. The shit with Thanos is well and truly over. Finished. That's all, no more, bye-bye, the end," the pale boy snarls, but Steve isn't even taken aback by it any more. He's used to Loki's outbursts now, he's seen him much angrier than this. Steve just takes a deep breath.

"Okay. So not Thanos," Steve says, as calmly as he can. "What is it then?"

"It's nothing," Loki insists wearily, pushing a hand through his hair. "Really, Steve. It's nothing. I'm honestly just tired."

It's not a lie either. Loki is _tired _– not only physically, though sleep is all he wants right now. He's drained emotionally too, his mental state stretched to the borderline of sanity. Tony's the only thing that keeps him going, but he won't admit it. His pretty little Tony and his body and all the things he does and the fact that he doesn't care if Loki's a total fucking basket case. That's all that makes him happy these days.

He doesn't say all that to Steve, but the blond understands and gets to his feet, switching off the TV and retrieving the pillow and crocheted blanket that are supposed to make the couch more comfortable for Loki but really don't help very much at all. He pats Loki's head before wishing him a good night. Loki waits until he hears Steve go into his bedroom before he finally allows himself to cry.

* * *

Back at the party, Tony's itching to go home, but he doesn't know how to tell Bruce and Thor without ruining their night and so he keeps quiet. Right now, he's watching them do lines off of a glass coffee table and can't help thinking how bad the residue stains are going to be and how much his dad would kick his ass if he did that on _their _table. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could text or call Loki except Loki doesn't have a cell. He used to, Tony remembers, but he sold it months ago – for drugs or for food or just to pay some kind of lodge to Steve – and now they have no way of communicating except for school and parties and if one goes to visit the other. The latter doesn't happen as much as Tony would like.

Tony's leaning against the railing on this dude's balcony, drinking something brightly coloured and carbonated. It's sweet but he can taste the alcohol in it. That's okay with him though. As if sex with Loki isn't intoxicating enough, he wants – no, he _needs _– to be drunk when he gets home.

Thor spots him and stumbles over, too full of alcohol and cocaine to even walk in a straight line.

"Are you okay?" he asks, in what Tony knows he thinks is a quiet voice.

"I'm fine," Tony lies, and Thor puts his arm around him.

"Don't worry about Loki," he says, shocking Tony. Thor knows what they get up too – he must do, everybody does – but he's never so much as mentioned one boy to the other before. "He's headstrong and stubborn and arrogant, but he'll be okay, I promise."

"I know," Tony lies again, knowing how much Loki would hate them discussing him like this.

"He's fond of you, you know," Thor tells Tony, unnecessarily. "He often tells me how beautiful he thinks you are."

"What?!" Tony straightens at that, and he's fucked if he can stop the shit-eating smile that cracks his face. "He said that? Like he actually used the word 'beautiful'? About me?"

"Sure he did. I mean-" Thor didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, due to him cutting himself of by turning and vomiting into a potted plant behind him.

"Oh my god!" Tony panics, he's never dealt with vomit well, whether his own or somebody else's. "Uh… hang on. I'll go get you some water, okay?"

Thor doesn't respond and Tony's off like a shot. He goes to the kitchen and dumps the contents of a red cup down the sink, rinsing it out a couple times to get rid of any traces of alcohol before he fills it with water. He feels a hand on his shoulder as he turns to leave.

A tall boy stands behind him – taller than Thor and Loki, and they're the tallest people Tony knows – and is looking down at him with concern.

"Are you alright?" his voice is high, cultured, and it reminds Tony of Loki. He finds himself smiling.

"Uh yeah, I'm fine," he says. "This is for my friend. He's just been sick and I guess he kinda needs it."

"Oh. Is _he _alright?" the boy asks. Tony nods.

"He'll be fine. I've seen Thor bounce back from plenty worse than this," Tony thinks he sees the boy's eyes flash at Thor's name, but it happens so quick he convinces himself he imagined it.

"Oh. Well. I'm Thanos. I was going to ask for your number, but I can see you're busy," he says. "So here's mine – text me some time, okay?"

"Uh sure, thanks," Tony accepts the piece of paper, a little flabbergasted but too concerned about Thor to focus on it right now.

When he looks up again, Thanos is gone and he concentrates on getting Thor better. He finds Bruce bent over the blond when he gets back to the balcony, but Banner is no more sober than Thor is and really isn't much help.

"Tony!" he looks glad to see the smaller boy. "Fuck! There you are!"

"Yeah," Tony moves to put a hand on Thor's back. "Hey, Big Guy. You alright? Here. Drink this. Its water. It'll make you feel better. You just drink that and I'll take you home, okay?"

Thor doesn't answer, but he nods and takes the cup from Tony with shaking hands and sips from it gladly. When he's done, he crumples the cup into tiny ball (not for the first time, Tony is amazed by the blond's strength) and then throws it over the edge of the balcony.

* * *

With quite a lot of difficulty, Bruce and Tony manage to support Thor all the way home. He has his key, but its tucked into the front pocket of his skinny jeans and neither one is too keen to get that up close and personal with the blonde almost-giant. So instead they knock on the door and hear a lot of disgruntled mumbling behind it, then heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

Tony swallowed, trying to stand up a little straighter as the door opened.

"Father!" Thor chuckles, collapsing against the man on the doorstep. Tony doesn't understand how he can. He's only met the guy a few times but Odin terrifies Tony, chills him to his very core. He's a little shorter than Thor, around Loki's height, but built like an ox and he always wears this scowl, which is made all the more terrifying by his god damned eye patch (Thor said he lost his eye in a war injury, but he didn't specify exactly what kind or even which war.) Despite his strict demeanour and terrifying appearance, he insists all of Thor's friends call him Odin. Come to think of it, Tony isn't even sure he knows his surname. Thor's is Odinson, and Loki's had been until he changed it in his sophomore year. Tony guesses it's some Norwegian thing, and doesn't like to think on it too much.

"What on earth…" Odin pushes Thor back slightly, so as to get a good look at him.

"He's a little drunk," Banner says, needlessly, and Tony guesses that Odin can see that.

"He was sick," Tony provides, and that one crystal blue eye turns to him. Tony swallows. "He vomited at the party. I guessed he wasn't well, so I thought maybe it was best if we brought him home. I think he just needs to go to bed, sleep it all off, you know?"

"Yeah. What he said," Banner contributes. Odin takes a deep breath, then almost-smiles at the small boy.

"Thank you Anthony," he says – and Tony's damned if he knows how Odin remembers his name. "You're a good man. The way you care for my boys, it's truly a blessing. Thank you."

"No problem," Tony's throat is dry as he croaks out his response. They all say their goodbyes, and it's not until he's halfway to his own home that Tony really registers what Odin has said.

"The way you care for my boys." _Boys. _Plural.

* * *

**A/N: **So this was gonna be a oneshot until I got more reviews but I got bored and wrote this and was itching to put it up so just lemme know what you all think, mmkay? Cheers, honeys.


	3. Three

**A/N: **I'm so so sorry about the long period of no updates guys! Life happened, you know? Christmas etc. is a busy time for me, seeing as I have such a massive family, I've just had literally zero time. This chapter is short and shitty compared to the others, so I'm sorry about that, but I hope it can keep you going until the next one! Enjoy :D.

* * *

It's a while before Loki sees anyone again.

Thor comes to visit him at Steve's one afternoon, on his way home from helping out at his uncle's hardware store. He lends a hand there through the summer, earns himself a bit of extra cash. Loki used to as well, way back when, but when he and Odin had their fight he stopped speaking to most of the family.

Loki knows Steve would have no problem with him inviting Thor inside, but Loki steps out onto the front step anyway.

"How are you?" Thor asks, patting Loki's arm gently. Loki winces away from the touch. It's not that Thor hurts him, not per se. But since leaving his old home and since Thanos, Loki doesn't eat much and he's pretty fragile.

"I'm fine," Loki shrugs, taking a long drag. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Why must something be up?" Thor raises one eyebrow and Loki shrugs again.

"Why else would you come to see me? Another party this weekend?" he's almost hopeful; Phil's been spending a lot of time at Steve's house as of late and Loki will take any excuse to get out of there as often as possible.

"I shouldn't need an excuse to visit my brother," Thor frowns and Loki laughs sarcastically, a harsh parody of the real thing.

"We're not brothers," he comments, and Thor frowns deeper.

"Loki. I am sorry about what father said…" he says, uneasily. Loki raises one eyebrow.

"You don't have to apologise," he says, and it's as close to kind as Loki gets these days. "Not your fault your father's a prick. Anyway, it's nothing to apologize for. I want to kiss the daft old bastard. Best thing that ever happened to me, finding I'm not related to that fucking creep."

"You don't really feel that way," Thor says, electing a third shrug from the dark-haired boy. "And anyway. Father is sorry too. He misses you."

"He does? He said that, did he?" Loki's voice is dripping with cynicism. Thor sighs heavily.

"He never says anything like that, you know he doesn't. But that's how he feels, I'm sure," Thor swallows. There's a pause, and then he sighs. "Mother misses you too."

Loki pauses, taking a drag and holding the smoke for a long second, before blowing it out through his nose.

"How is Mum?" he asks, in as casual a tone as he can muster. "She okay?"

"She wants you back. _I _want you back. Come home, Loki," Thor says, desperately. "Please."

"I don't have a home, Thor," Loki can't keep the sadness out of his voice. "Not anymore."

"Loki…" Thor sighs, and the slimmer boy quickly diverts the subject.

"Have you seen Tony? Is he okay?" he asks.

"He asked me the same thing about you yesterday," Thor chuckles. "We're going over to Banner's house later for video games – me and Tony and Clint and Natasha – you should come. It'll do you good to get out and socialise."

Loki knows that Thor is really saying he should stop moping around and feeling sorry for himself. He considers replying with some snide, sarcastic comment. But Loki agrees with him, for the first time in years, and he just sighs.

"I suppose I might tag along," Loki says, like he could care less. "Will Bruce's parents be there?"

"I highly doubt it," Thor chuckles, knowing what Loki's getting at. If there's one thing they can rely on Banner for it's that he'll have a stash of something good hidden away for when his folks aren't in town. It's generally a good time, plus Banner generally lets Loki crash in his guest room if he's too wasted to make it back to Steve's. "I'll pick you up on my way over, around seven, okay?"

"Okay," Loki says, trying to suppress a grin at his former brother's retreating back.

* * *

It's just gone seven when Thor swings by Steve's to collect Loki, and around a quarter past when they arrive at Banner's house. It's a nice enough place; a three bedroomed, white-washed Cape Cod, with butter yellow window shutters. It's in a pretty good neighbourhood, with above-ground sprinklers and inflatable pools and skipping ropes littering front yards. It never ceases to amaze Loki how somebody like Banner can live in such an unnervingly ordinary place.

Thor doesn't seem to notice, and he strides up the front door and raps on it with confidence. Loki stands at his shoulder, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and running a hand through his hair, brushing it off his face. It's hot out, in the high nineties, and Loki sweats inside his jacket. But he doesn't go out without it, can't go out without it. Oh, Tony's seen, of course he has, but he knows better than to say anything, or to ask about it. Loki doesn't mind _Tony _seeing. It's the rest of the world he's hiding his shame from.

After a chorus of _'no you go get it!' _and a little bit of scuffling from inside, the door opens and Natasha stands there. She's a fresh-faced girl with flame-red hair that comes in curls to her shoulders. She could be very conventionally pretty if she bothered with things like fake tan and girlie dresses and pink lipstick, but she doesn't; the smudges of eyeliner are days old and she wears torn jeans and battered old Doc Martens and a flannel shirt that Loki suspects came from a charity shop or her brother's wardrobe.

"Hey, guys," she says, with a smile that lasts less than half a second. She's not _miserable _exactly. More… indifferent. To everything. "Come on in."

The boys follow her through the hallway and into the living room, where they find Bruce and Clint sitting on the couch, each clutching an x-Box controller. Half-full beer bottles, as well as several empties, litter the floor around a crate of full bottles. Loki grabs one as he passes, making his way to the other end of the couch, where Tony sits cross-legged on the floor.

"Hi," Loki says, as he drops into a similar position next to the smaller boy.

"Hey, Lo," Tony grins, and that's enough to make Loki feel okay again. Tony's own hand is curled around the neck of a bottle, and he tries to hide the grimace as he swigs it, but Loki notices and laughs. Tony's not much of a beer drinker, never has been. Something to do with the smell, Loki remembers him saying, it reminds him of his dad. Something like that. "How you doing?"

"I'm okay," Loki lies, and he smiles. "What about you?"

"I'm good. Great, even," Tony replies, with a wide smile that seems genuine. Loki's more than a little surprised at the response – Tony's happy enough, sure, but he's never known the kid be _cheerful. _It makes Loki panic and it takes him maybe a little bit too long to choke out that he's glad for Tony. In amongst the shock there's a pang of something else. Something unpleasant, but not unfamiliar. Loki's _jealous. _Not only because Tony's happy and he isn't, but because he's known Tony for years, done all sorts to try and make him smile and laugh and – though his attempts usually work – he's never made Tony smile like _that _before. Whatever it is must be good.

Maybe even good enough to make Tony consider losing Loki.

* * *

It's only a couple of hours before Loki's beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol and whatever the hell it is he's been smoking. Somewhere in that time, Tony's found his way into Loki's lap and is currently straddling the taller boy's thighs, his hands resting on the back of Loki's neck. They've been kissing for a while now – Loki's lost track of the time but it must be close to an hour – and they're only vaguely aware of the wolf-whistles and snide comments that are becoming increasingly infrequent from the others.

Eventually, the pair are broken apart when they're hit with a throw pillow.

"Either stop it with the tonsil tennis or get yourselves a room," Banner comments. "It's getting kind of disturbing now."

"Okay," Loki stands up, only hearing _'get yourselves a room'. _He holds a hand out to Tony and smiles."Come on, Ton."

"What?" Tony's dazed, not so good at handling his alcohol or his narcotics. "Oh! Oh, yeah, okay.

He takes Loki's hand and the pair stumble off in the general direction of the staircase. They hear Clint and Natasha laughing, egging them on. Thor chuckles too, though he's uneasy talking about his brother's sex-life in such away. Banner simply calls out that he'll castrate both of them in they have sex in his bed.

They find the guest room after five minutes of stumbling, and fall onto the bed. They kiss for a while, all saliva and tongues and sloppiness, before Tony sits up with a heavy sigh.

"I gotta go take a piss," he mutters.

"Attractive," Loki comments, with a snort. Tony laughs too, then kisses Loki's forehead.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he slurs, and he staggers from the room.

No sooner has Tony left, his phone beeps in his jeans pocket, strewn across the bedroom floor. Loki's not in the habit of reading other people's messages, but he knows Tony doesn't really get many. Assuming it will be someone from downstairs telling them to keep the noise down, he goes to retrieve the phone, thinking he can reply with some (probably not) hilarious comment that'll shut them up. What he does find stops him dead in his tracks.

**New messages: (1) Thanos**

**Sounds great, how about tomorrow at four? . **


End file.
